The Story Isn't Over
by gildedlillykane
Summary: My attempt at a fix-it for events in the s4 finale. DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED OR BEEN SPOILED. Feedback is appreciated.


_No_.

That one simple thought was the only thing that Veronica could hear over the ringing in her head.

_No. This is not happening. This can't be happening_.

Numb and shaking Veronica pushed herself off the bed and stumbled blindly out of her bedroom. She wrenched open the front door of her apartment and was immediately assaulted by the deafening wail of car alarms and a cloud of smoke that filled her already stinging eyes. She squinted and rushed down the steps, toward the direction of the dark plumes rising to the sky.

_No. No. No_.

Her eyes darted frantically over the debris, the charred remnants of her car; the shiny blue now ashy black. She saw his shoe first. It looked out of place among the twisted bits of metal strewn about the street. It was lying next to what she thought used to be a hubcap. She ran toward it, oblivious to the fact that she was missing a shoe as well. She didn't even notice the heat of the pavement or the bits of glass that imbedded themselves into her one bare foot as she hobbled forward. Tears and smoke clogged Veronica's throat so much that she could barely breathe. Veronica waved her hands in front her, trying to make some of the smoke dissipate, and that's when she saw the figure lying on the side of the street. She could only make out a vague outline through the smoke-filled haze but that was enough; she would know him anywhere.

She ran until she reached him, her legs giving out as soon as she did, making her fall to her knees by his side.

"L-Logan!" His name clawed its way out of her throat, raw and anguished. Her eyes roamed over his body; his limbs were sprawled out at awkward, uncomfortable looking angles, but blessedly intact. His suit was slightly singed in places and covered in soot. There were red marks on what skin was exposed, most prominently a blistering burn marred the side of his face and down his neck; he looked bad, but nothing like the horrifying images Veronica had tried to scare into the head of the frat guy she and her dad had interrogated earlier. But he wasn't moving. Not a twitch. Veronica stared at his still chest; how many nights had she laid her head on that chest as the rhythm of his beating heart and the steady rise and fall of his breathing had lulled her to sleep?

"No." Her voice was small now and quiet and so utterly broken. "No."

She didn't think anything could hurt as much as it had when she had seen the body of her best friend Lilly Kane all those years ago. Or those hours after she thought her father had perished in the plane blown up by Cassidy Casablancas. But this…

"No." Her voice was hard now, laced with determination. She sniffed back her tears and steeled herself, recalling everything she could about the first aid she learned at cheer camp one summer. Something about hands only CPR and the Bee Gees. She placed the heel of one hand to the spot where Logan's breastbone met his ribs, stacking her other hand on top and lacing her fingers together, Veronica began compressions.

She was halfway through the chorus of 'Stayin' Alive' in her head when she heard it. It was the most beautiful sound in the world; Logan coughed.

"Logan!" She cried, stilling her hands. She wanted to reach up and touch his face but was afraid of hurting him because of the burn. "Logan, I'm here. Can you hear me? I'm here. You're okay. You're gonna be okay."

Some sidewalk saint called 911, and Veronica stayed right where she was until the ambulance arrived, keeping her hand on Logan's chest as it gently rose and fell.

Logan was unconsciousness for almost two days. He had a concussion and a broken arm as well as several burns, all of which were first or second degree. He had been moving away from the car when the bomb went off, which is why he had escaped the full brunt of the blast. Some passing tourist down the street had called to him, asking for directions—they were fortunately unscathed. Veronica vowed to never blow off anyone that needed directions ever again with some comment about asking Siri as she had in the past.

Almost five months later and Logan had been given a clean bill of health. No one would even be able to tell how close he had come to a horrible fate. Except Veronica. Every time her eyes fell on the faint burn scar on the underside of Logan's chin her heart stopped; it was a reminder of what might have happened, of how devastating things could have turned out. And all because she had let herself be outsmarted by a pizza guy. Veronica had to talk herself down in those moment, stop herself from calling up Weevil to ask if he knew anyone on the inside that could 'do something' about Penn—she'd even considered contacting Clyde about. But despite how hard she tried to reason with herself, it was usually Logan that helped really calm her. Logan never asked, but he seemed to know exactly what was going through Veronica's head in those times. Without a word, he would kiss her on the forehead and pull her close, gently pressing Veronica's head to his chest, her ear placed perfectly over his heart; she would listen to his heart beating and everything else would suddenly fall away.

"Honey, I'm home!" Veronica called out as she entered the apartment where she and Logan lived for the time being, trying not to think about how they probably weren't going to be able to afford it for much longer. "And I brought Chinese food!" The jingle of their dog's collar made Veronica look up with a smile. "Hey, Pony!" she gushed, crouching down and pulling out an eggroll for the dog. "Where's daddy, huh? Where's—" Her words cut off when her eyes landed on the duffel bag by the couch. It had been so long since she had seen it that she had almost forgotten about it; about what it meant that it was in their living room rather than shoved in the back of the closet. A familiar fear gripped her, followed by intense anger. She let the bags of food she was holding drop to the floor. She clenched her teeth and balled her fists, rising slowly to her feet. She looked up to see Logan standing in the entrance of the hallway with a somber expression she knew all too well.

"You have got to be kidding me," Veronica said. "How dare they? After what you've just been through! You're barely recovered! And they expect you to go off to god knows where and…" Veronica squeezed her eyes shut tight, damming back the tears. "They can't do this."

"Come on, Veronica," Logan entreated, his voice infuriatingly calm. "It's been five months. You knew I would be going back eventually. I've been cleared for duty—"

"A week ago!" Veronica argued. That hardly seemed like enough time to her.

"They need me," Logan said simply.

"I need you more!" With that Veronica's voice cracked and the damn broke; tears spilled from eyes, her face crumbling.

Logan was in front of her in just a few quick strides, wrapping her up in his arms, pressing his lips to the top of her head. Veronica hugged him back fiercely, her nails digging into his back.

"I just almost lost you," she sobbed. "I can't do that again."

"Veronica. Hey," Logan cupped the sides of Veronica's cheeks and tipped her head up to face him. "You didn't lose me. And you're not losing me now. I promised you before, 'I'll _always_ come back to you.'"

Veronica took a deep breath, resting her forehead on Logan's chest. "How long…" She sighed; she wanted to ask how long he'd be gone, but knew it was pointless. "How long before you go?" she asked instead, looking back into Logan's eyes.

Logan brushed the tears from Veronica's cheek with his thumb. "I have some time."

_Never enough_, Veronica thought, as she stretched up to meet his lips with hers.

Six months passed without a word from Logan. Not by phone, skype, email, carrier pigeon, or message in a bottle. It was the longest he'd been away without making contact. Veronica was worried. She had tried getting in touch with the handful of people she met that worked with Logan, but of course they were all dead ends. Logan's whereabouts seemed to be the one mystery she couldn't solve no matter how hard she tried—and it annoyed the hell out of her. But that was good. At least when she was annoyed or angry, she could focus on that instead of the intense dread that was balled in the pit of her stomach. She was coming out of her skin just waiting around, wondering. She needed a distraction. The cases in Neptune were proving to be to run-of-the-mill. She needed something more. So, she decided to take one of the many requests from people that had been flooding Mars Investigations from all over the country. But before leaving town she wanted to do one more thing that might help her connect with Logan by finally doing the one thing that he had been wanting her to do for so long; she made an appointment with his therapist, Jane. She wasn't sure yet if she had gotten anything meaningful out of the actual session itself, but she was open to giving it another chance. And she did receive something priceless out of the experience. Tears rolled down Veronica's cheek as she listened to the voicemail Logan had left Jane the day he and Veronica got married. Hearing his voice after so long was a balm on her aching heart. Hearing the love in his words reinforced Veronica's own love for him. She was also reminded of another romantic speech he had made so many years before.

_Our story was epic. Spanning years and continents. Lives ruined and bloodshed. Epic. _

He was right. Their story was epic. And it wasn't over. No matter how long it took or how far he had to go, Logan would come back to Veronica, just like he promised. Like he always did.

_Always._


End file.
